


Blood Moon

by zarahjoyce



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Action Twins, F/M, Sansa is expert at making bombs, Wight Hunters, and Jon is........... an idiot, of Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters, please watch this movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 02:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20146114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarahjoyce/pseuds/zarahjoyce
Summary: These motherfucking wights have actually dared to hurtSansa,of all people - and that just won't fucking do, in this world or the next.So he does what any loving brother would do - huntthe fuckout of the fuckers who dared lay a finger on her....except he gravely underestimated their number and the fact that there are several White Walkers involved here, hence his situation now:His arms tied behind him and without any weapon he can defend himself with, the Army of the Dead sloooowly advancing towards him, their White Walker leaders cackling like motherfuckingidiotsfrom a vantage point above them all.--yeah Jon Snow, is quite simply, fucked beyondanymortal comprehension.





	Blood Moon

**Author's Note:**

> for the Jonsa Drabble Event Day 3 (6th August): Fairy Tales/Sin. Here's a mixture of both.

Jon is, quite simply, fucked _beyond_ any mortal comprehension.  
  
He can almost hear his twin sister's admonition about him acting brashly without thinking things through, and she will be right - as she often is.  
  
Except this time he _has _a legitimate reason for acting like the idiot she often accuses him of being.  
  
Because this time, these motherfucking wights have actually dared to hurt _Sansa_, of all people - and that just won't fucking do, in this world or the next.  
  
So he does what any loving brother would do - hunt _the fuck_ out of the fuckers who dared lay a finger on her.  
  
...except he gravely underestimated their number _and _the fact that there are several White Walkers involved here, hence his situation now:  
  
His arms tied behind him and without any weapon he can defend himself with, the Army of the Dead sloooowly advancing towards him, their White Walker leaders cackling like motherfucking _idiots _from a vantage point above them all.  
  
_Should've brought some of Sansa's 'sploding toys, _he thinks, cursing his own stupidity.  
  
\--yeah Jon Snow, is quite simply, fucked beyond _any_ mortal comprehension.  
  
He glares at those making their way towards him. No way in _hell_ will he show them any fear; he supposed that losing his limbs and his life - in the arms of the motherfucking things he's supposed to be hunting and killing - is just one of the many, various ways he can die, and he's accepted that, long ago. Perks of the job and all that shit.  
  
_Well._ So long as he leaves Sansa alive and well, then it'll be worth it.  
  
_Sorry, Sans,_ he thinks, even as he grins at his killers. _Guess you'll just have to continue hunting them without me._  
  
_I love you. Give 'em hell for me._  
  
He closes his eyes, waits for the inevitable hacking and stabbing and mutilating that should start any moment now--  
  
\--except the sound of a fucking _explosion _from somewhere beyond him rips through his entire body, temporarily deafening him.  
  
And before he can process _that_, his chains felt like it was being tinkered with - and Jon glances behind him, only to find--  
  
"_Sansa,_" he breathes, something close to wonder and awe in his tone. His eyes devour the face he never thought he'll ever see again - even the bandages he's carefully positioned over her brow and cheek - and asks, "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Saving your sorry ass." Just after she's managed to snap his chains with the contraption she's somehow built herself, Sansa reaches for him - and slaps his cheek as though he's a particularly naughty child. "Jesus _fuck_, Jon. What the fuck were you thinking, coming here without me?"  
  
Jon glances at the enemy; the explosion Sansa has caused apparently managed to kill most of the wights, while the White Walkers above them have been knocked off their feet - which means they _have _some time for chit chat. So he asks, "What did you put in that bomb?"  
  
Sansa pretends to think the question through. "Oh, you know. Holy water. Bits of dragonglass. Scraps of valyrian steel - the usual." She raises her brows. "What, did you think I don't know what we're dealing with, _this_ time?"  
  
Unable to help himself, he places a hand on her nape - and plants a kiss on her closed mouth. "You're a fucking _genius, _you know that?"  
  
She laughs and pushes him away. "_Obviously_," Sansa remarks, before her expression dulls to something close to annoyance. "Just so you know, no amount of flattery will save you from me skinning you alive for this stupid, _stupid _stunt you've pulled. Why the fuck did you think--"  
  
"They hurt you."   
  
As if _that _explained everything.  
  
Sansa sighs. "Jon--"  
  
Without warning, a wight somewhere to their left screeches - signalling its position _and _alerting the others around them that they've been attacked.   
  
Jon grimaces. "Later," he promises, reaching for his sword and the crossbow she's offering him. "We'll continue this later." Pause. Noticing the company they're about to royally fuck up he asks, "You got any more of those holy bombs, Sans?"  
  
She grins. "Don't I always?"


End file.
